


Fevre Dream

by soulmate328



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, Childish Plots, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hopeful Ending, Imprisonment, Lack of Continuity, M/M, Madness, Marriage Proposal, Medical Inaccuracies, Mostly Bloody Crow's Point of View, Politics, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Sacrifice, Shitty Writing, Slow Burn, Smut, Torture, cocktails
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:48:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26463664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulmate328/pseuds/soulmate328
Summary: It was on a morning that the moon-scented hunter arrived at Yharnam in the waking world. Some remembered him, some did not. Bloody Crow belonged to the former; a skilled hunter like him had many preparations while traveling between dream and reality. He would not allow himself to forget everything he did every time he woke up.
Relationships: Bloody Crow Of Cainhurst/The Hunter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [热夜之梦](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25647067) by [soulmate328](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulmate328/pseuds/soulmate328). 



> The Hunter in this story is a hunter who ate three umbilical cords yet chose the "Yharnam Sunrise" ending. He didn't confront Gehrman or the Moon Presence, and decided to wake up and save the people of Yharnam first instead. Most of the characters from the game survived, because in my setting the dream and the waking world are separate worlds, only connected in some ways.

**Yharnam, January 0001 AN (After Nightmare)**

It was on a morning that the moon-scented hunter arrived at Yharnam in the waking world. Some remembered him, some did not. Bloody Crow belonged to the former; a skilled hunter like him had many preparations while traveling between dream and reality. He would not allow himself to forget everything he did every time he woke up.

Like all other Vilebloods, Bloody Crow moved mostly at night, leaping from towers to roofs just like his epithet described, hunting for blood dregs on hunters wandering alone. He wasn't the first to discover the Hunter's arrival, though; it wasn't until the black smoke had stopped rising in Central Yharnam, and light shone again through the windows, that he realized something had happened. The one who brought him the information was an unexpected person - Eileen, the actual Crow Hunter, clad in her dark feather garb.

"Crow," he greeted her indifferently, with both a trace of the arrogance of Cainhurst nobles in the past, and the rough manners of one who had wandered for long years.

"Bloody Crow," she inclined her head, beak mask pointing up and down. "Hope you enjoy failure as I do."

"You think that moon-scented hunter truly won? Don't be ridiculous, Crow. If you didn't make me use up all my vials, he wouldn't have succeeded for another century."

Bloody Crow was seated in the embrace of a statue in the Grand Cathedral, polishing the blade of Chikage with elegant, smooth strokes. He waved a hand at Eileen impatiently. "Now, disappear, little crow. I'm not in the mood of listening to your threats."

He got his crowfeather set from the corpse of a Crow Hunter, about five or six generations before Eileen. The hunt that year was extraordinarily brutal, and many hunters sunk into madness. Bloody Crow had found himself in a paradise for Vilebloods whenever he went out into the streets, with walking dregs everywhere in the city. However, the Crow Hunter at that time was extremely strong as well, hunting down many of his fellows with surprising efficiency. This no doubt irritated Bloody Crow, so he killed him with ease. From then on, the hate and despise towards Bloody Crow had become another heritage that Crow Hunters inherit from their mentors besides their garb and badge, and Bloody Crow got a trouble that harassed him for nearly a century. Every generation of the Crow Hunters knew that there was a Vileblood Hunter who murdered one of their predecessors, and was still wearing that solemn garb as if showing off his trophy. Eileen had been making claims of hunting down Bloody Crow since she was just a maiden, but more than often she couldn't even detect his shadows. Now that she had become an old hunter herself, perhaps she was ready to entrust this hatred to her successor.

"I come here to tell you," Eileen wasn't hostile as she usually was, but simply continued. "He is back. Or should I say, he has come?"

Bloody Crow's movements stopped. "The moon-scented hunter?"

"Exactly."

"Why do you come to inform me of this?"

"Because I assume you'll soon become useful," a trace of interest tinged the hoarse voice of the old woman. "I think there will be a lot of fun. Both you and him will benefit this."

A few months later, the Hunter opened the gate to the Grand Cathedral. He had already rallied forces in the old abandoned workshop, gathered some hunters to him, and was conducting medical researches in Iosefka's clinic. The Healing Church had collapsed, so the Hunter decided to take over the Cathedral Ward, in order to utilize the resources left by the Church and restart the operation of Yharnam's medical and management system, so that he could help the city regain her strength from the brutality of the hunt.

It was a fair night, with moonlight of silver-white instead of blood-red spilling into the cathedral through the great rose windows, making their meeting less uncanny than those they had in the dream. When the Hunter came to the cathedral alone, with his flowing coat and steady steps, Bloody Crow suddenly understood what Eileen had meant when she said this would 'benefit' him. There was a sweet, noble smell of blood seething through the Hunter's layers of garb; just a small wrinkle of nose, and Bloody Crow had knew how superior the Hunter's blood was. It was a fragrance that even the queen's blood had never had, almost like those rare drops of the Great Ones. Bloody Crow was trembling in excitement. If he offer the Hunter's dregs to the queen, the Vilebloods' thousand-year-old dream of having a Child of Blood could possibly come true!

"Moon-scented hunter," beneath the silver mask, Bloody Crow licked his lips, baring a feral smile. "Your blood smells even more delicious than before."

"It's you ... Bloody Crow," the Hunter said with his face set. Profound knowledge sparkled in his eyes, but he didn't seem completely sober. His pupils were spread like those of a beast patient, but not so advanced in the process of the illness. He reached behind him, and in less than a second threw a blood pellet into his mouth, uncaring of what awful mental state he was in.

But none of those was Bloody Crow's concern; seduced by the sweetness of blood, he moved in a flash of smoke with Quickening and flung the bloodied Chikage towards the Hunter's head. Battle in the reality was much more dangerous than those in dreams; without the limitless ressurection, without life calculated by some form of statistics, the Hunter must manage to avoid every one of Bloody Crow's strikes and shots. The experienece and knowledge he gained from the dream enabled him to persist for a few more minutes than usual hunters, but at last the Hunter was subdued by Bloody Crow's blade. Blade or gun, Blood Crow didn't know. The only thing he cared about was ripping off the Hunter's clothes, removing his own helmet carelessly, and bend down to breathe in the intoxicating scent of the Hunter's skin.

The Hunter had no strength to resist, but the wounds Bloody Crow had inflicted upon him didn't seem to be bothering him, either. He simply cuddled his own head, making fitful moans and pants, as if he was fighting something inside his head. Bloody Crow lifted and spread him on the cathedral's altar, kissed and licked him all over and stroked him until he came. With great care he collected the precious dregs in a silver flask, and with his centuries of unmoving loyalty for the queen he managed to suppress his urge of saving the Hunter's blood for himself.

"Bloody Crow," the Hunter called. This time his mind seemed to be fully clear. He stared at Bloody Crow with wide eyes, at his old enemy's handsome features, milky skin, silvery hair and emerald eyes.

Bloody Crow secured the silver flask into his pocket, throwing an elegant but wild smile to the Hunter lying in a mess. "I assume I will be patronizing very frequently."

Yet when he knelt in front of Annalise's throne, described his experience with shivering voice and presented solemnly the Hunter's dregs, the queen simply shook her head.

"The moon-scented hunter's blood cannot give us the Divine Child. We am grateful, mine loyal knight, but thou need'st not offer me his blood again."

His good mood fell from heaven to hell. He asked the queen why the blood wouldn't work, but the queen did not answer. He lay in his bed, sulking for quite a while, inspecting the flask with the Hunter's blood over and over, until eventually he failed to resist and drained it in one gulp.

Within a spilt second, his whole body was taken over by a wave of maddening joy. His sight was blackened oh-so-sweetly, his ears ringing continuously and his body trembling helplessly in the sheets, with even the slightest friction of silk enticing heavy breaths and groans from his lips. He lost track of time, but when he finally woke he found his inner thighs thoroughly drenched, having come multiple times.

Beneath the uttermost joy there was also confusion. Had the moon-scented hunter's blood always been this good? If his blood has such quality, why did the queen said it was of no use?

With questions and expectations, he paid his visit to Yharnam once more. He surely wasn't expecting to see the Hunter battling his own comrades when he arrived at the Grand Cathedral. The Hunter's screams and roars were mixed with gibberish formed by strange languages. In his left hand was a shotgun, which sent hunters flying with every bullet; in his right hand was a saw cleaver applied with fire, which flung crackling sparks violently into the air with every swing. Only Eileen and another blond Executioner could stand against him; other usual hunters post no threat to him at all. Seeing an Exectutioner soured Bloody Crow's mood. He leapt absently from the roof into the Cathedral, sending the Hunter to his knees with one shot, and ending the fight with only the spilling of blood from Chikage's blade.

The blond Executioner stared blankly for a few seconds at his silver helmet, and immediately rushed towards him with bared teeth. "Vileblood!"

"Wait, Alfred!" Eileen stopped him. "He can help us!"

"Help? Their existance is irritating enough!"

"If not because of me," Bloody Crow raised his chin to the Executioner. "You might as well have become a pile of pulp adhered to his cleaver."

"You ... ! Let me kill him, Eileen!"

"No, Alfred, he is right! None of us can restrain the Hunter, but he can. He's the only one strong enough."

Through Eileen's recount, Bloody Crow learned that the Hunter, awakened from the dream, seemed to have gained some form of supernatural spiritual power, and his insight was so high that one wondered why he hadn't murdered himself yet. He had started to become unstable, seeing illusions and going mad, and whenever this sort of thing happened there would certainly be great loss. Eileen's proposal was simple: Bloody Crow would be responsible for getting the Hunter under control in times of his hysteria, and as repayment Bloody Crow could take the Hunter's blood.

"You just sold your little friend to me like this?" Bloody Crow asked doubtfully. "Don't you fear that I may suck him dry?"

Eileen shook her head. "I suppose you've realized as well? The kid is not a normal human being. Perhaps saying this would hurt your dignity, but I'm afraid you cannot kill him, Bloody Crow."

"And that's it." While the Hunter was still half unconscious and hadn't the time to reflect on what ahd happened, Bloody Crow had already thrown open his covers and put himself onto his body with a sly but graceful smile on his face. "You're mine now, moon-scented hunter."

"Why do you ... "

"This is the payment I deserve for my hard labors."

In fact, sex was far less pleasurable than blood drinking for the Vilebloods, but Bloody Crow wanted the Hunter, and he always took what he wanted, besides the tributes he reserved for his queen. But the queen said his blood was of no use to her, which meant he could do whatever he liked. He enjoyed the Hunter thoroughly, reveling in that human warmth and tightness, appreciating the way his eyes were enslaved by pleasure. The Hunter was as inexperienced as a maid; he wrapped his legs timidly around Bloody Crow's hips, producing enticing moans with his head thrown back. His dark hair framed his pale face like the black of night, his blood-red eyes blurry from lust. Bloody Crow enjoyed him from dusk to midnight, only leaving reluctantly after having his fill of the Hunter's sweet, sweet blood.

"Strange that I don't recall you having such good blood in the dream?" Bloody Crow lay in bed with his head at the tail, long legs putting on the head while asking in a bit of casual curiosty. "Were you experimented on by those maniacs of the Healing Church? No, probably not, they don't have the strength ... was it because you rose to be the kin of some Old God?"

The Hunter gave no reply to his question. He gazed at Bloody Crow, eyes deep as the universe, as if constellations turned within.

"Between the rivers that nurtured the civilization of Pthumeru was the land in which the earliest humans dwelt. It was a rich and beautiful country, and in there your ancestor Cain was born," the Hunter told him, with wisdom and also a bit of bewilderment, as if he wasn't sure how he got to know this himself. "The Old Gods commanded him to give up the finest part of his fruits of labor. Cain offered the crops he planted, but the gods weren't pleased by his oblation, and instead favored the lamb of his brother Abel. Cain brooded day and night, and decided to offer his brother Abel to the gods, for his brother was the strongest, the smartest, and his most beloved. Only Abel suited to be the oblation offered to the gods. Cain's father comdemned him for his crime and banished him into the wilderness, the lands of Nod. There in the darkness he met Lilith, Mother of Night, and she shared with him her blood so that he could survive on it in the evenings, and she taught him to increase his companions and offspring with Embrace."

Bloody Crow blinked several times before he realized what he was saying. "That is our epic, _The Book of Nod_! How do you come to know it? All the copies were destroyed by the Executioners years ago - they don't recognize our culture or history at all, saying that we're just creatures born from the betrayal of some traitor of Byrgenwerth - these myths should only be passing down among the descendents of Vilebloods now, orally."

"They are engraved, and echoing in your blood," the Hunter reached out to touch his ankle, sending a shiver down Bloody Crow's spine. "I can read the memories of your forefathers in your blood, hear your ancestors' calls, like reading books from a library or listening to music from a music box."

When he was finished, the Hunter closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep, as if telling him what he just said had exhausted him thoroughly. Bloody Crow hesitated before he chose to stay. Evenings were supposed to be his working time, but the sex had him sore all over; besides, the bed was warm and soft with the Hunter in it, so he decided to give himself a one-night vacation.

The next morning, the Hunter rose when the horizon was only beginning to whiten. Vigilance overcame his bioclock of sleeping at day when Bloody Crow sensed movements from the man beside him, pulling him out of his sleep.

"What time is it? Where are you going?"

"We're going to pay visits in city, to check if there're any suspected cases," the Hunter said as he donned the white church set. "Yharnam is a big city; there's no time to waste."

That being said, the Hunter didn't really hasten to Central Yharnam. He stepped out of the gate of the Grand Cathedral and stopped at the uppermost staircase, gazing at the sunrise far away on the horizon. Golden rays spilled over every corner of Yharnam, and all colors brightened under the heavenly light. The Hunter drunk in this sight with his eyes, taking off his hood to let the morning breeze kiss his hair, as if he could stay in this moment forever.

"I've always wondered what Yharnam looks like when she's intact," he murmured. "Streets filled with laughter, clean water in every fountain, flowers in ever park. I've walked in every street when I was in the dream, imagining to watch the city came back to life some day. Be free some day."

"Free?" Bloody Crow asked impatiently, hidden behind the gate. Vilebloods do not burn in sunlight like the vampires in Yharnam urban legends, but indeed their physiology was born for the night. The sun was too hot for his skin, and the light was too bright for his eyes. He watched the Hunter enjoying the day without care, and couldn't decide if he should be jealous or disdainful.

The Hunter went to the clinic first to gather the necessary medical supplies. Bloody Crow followed him a little reluctantly; he half wanted to go home and sleep, but he was curious to see what the Hunter was going to do. The Hunter grabbed the medical box, joined three other hunters at the clinic's fromt door, and the four set out towards Central Yharnam. One of them was Eileen, another a tall Church Hunter, the third an old hunter wearing a yellow coat. The latter two chattered all along the way and were clearly old partners. They were alarmed at Bloody Crow's presence at first, but Eileen assured them that he would not cause any harm. The Hunter introduced them to Bloody Crow one by one: the Church Hunter was Father Gascoigne, and the old hunter was called Henryk.

Gascoigne knocked softly on the door when they arrived at the first residence on the list. The owner's curses came out from within, "Away, you useless hunters!"

"Don't get excited, old fellow," Gascoigne soothed with his tender vibrating voice. "I'm Gascoigne from the Church, remember? The streets are cleaned, you can come out with your heart settled now. But you've got to let us in to do some checks, to make sure you're not sick."

"Letting someone in at this hour? When the hunt is still on? Go dream your dreams in other places? This is Yharnam, not some demoralized village in the mountains or marshes!"

Gascoigne sighed and moved to the side. The Hunter strode forward and kicked open the door with one swing of his leg, walking inside with the owner exclaiming about illegal trespasses, while Eileen and Henryk stood guard at the door. Gascoigne pressed the residents down one by one to let the Hunter inspect them properly; when they confirmed that there were no signs of the beast scourge, they bowed in apology for the invasion and left bathed in the owner's curses.

The checked the whole street using this procedure; Gascoigne would soothe the residents' nerve and ask for consent first, and they broke in if it wasn't given, taking away all those who display mild symptoms. They brought the patients to quarantine on the first floor of the clinic; the second floor was already filled to the brim with beast patients, those who participated in the night of the hunt. A woman doctor dressed in a white robe was looking after them, setting up infusion bottles and injecting sedatives for them, making sure that they were tighly tied to the beds. Through the hunter's conversation with her, Bloody Crow learned that her name was Iosefka.

"Do you really think you can cure these people?"

"If I can't, I'll still be in the dream," the Hunter replied briefly and turned to Iosefka. "Is anyone qualified for the operation?"

"Patient Number 11 is ready."

"Good. Get prepared, I'll be there in a minute. Go do your things, Bloody Crow. The operation must not be disturbed."

Bloody Crow wasn't actually interested in the process of curing, and since the Hunter had essentially banished him, he went home. The eternal winter and eternal night of Cainhurst felt comfortable and kind, but when he returned to his own chamber after seeing the queen, the emptiness formed a clear comparion with the Hunter's room in which his warmth lingered. For the first time in many years he wasn't used to the cold and loneliness. He built a big fire in the fireplace, warming up the chamber to human temperature, and drank a cup of wine mixed with a few drops of the Hunter's blood before going to bed contentedly.

When he returned to Yharnam, the city was in night's embrace as well. There were smell of blood and smoke in the air, but no screams of beasts could be heard, so the hunt must be over. Bloody Crow had wanted to look for the Hunter in his chamber, only to run right into him on the stairs in the Grand Cathedral.

The Hunter was wandering up and down the staircase. Bloody Crow called him and he made no reply, simply kept on wandering and looking up at the stone beems shaped like Amygdala, making soft curses such as "disgusting fiends" and "watchdogs of nightmare." A woman Church Hunter wearing a black coat and top hat was following him carefully, staying vigilant for any unexpected circumstances.

"What is this?" asked Bloody Crow.

The lady hunter apparently knew about this mysterious Vileblood who's responsible for getting the Hunter under control. She whispered in reply, "Sleep-walking, one of the early symptoms of the beast scourge. We went hunting in outer areas tonight; still many beasts in those places. He took too many blood pellets."

Bloody Crow nodded, "You can go now. I'll take care of this."

The lady hunter's gaze shifted between him and the Hunter, but at last she decided to leave. Upon departure she took off her hat and bowed to him politely. "Thank you for your help, I am Henriett of the Church Hunters. Do I have the pleasure to know your name?"

"How does he call me?" Bloody Crow pointed towards the Hunter.

Henriett turned away her gaze in embrassment. "... Bloody crow."

Bloody Crow grinned beneath his silver mask. "Then you may call me that."

When Henriett was out of sight, Bloody Crow seized the Hunter and sank his teeth into his neck before the Hunter could realize what happened. He drank the Hunter's blood until he fainted, and carried him back to the room in satisfaction.

"Now, my little hunter," Bloody Crow gazed into the Hunter's perpelxed eyes, caressing his cheeks almost lovingly. "The night is long."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Book of Nod is a fictional book in White Wolf Game Studios's RPG, World of Darkness. It tells the story of the origin of vampires, and here I used it as the epic of the Vilebloods.


	2. Chapter 2

**Yharnam, March 0001 AN (After Nightmare)**

"The one thing you must do before you start learning the skills of hunting, and the most important one, is to choose your first pair of weapons."

The Hunter paced from left to right on the platforms, raising his voice for the apprentices beneath to hear. He was wearing the same outfit as Gehrman the First Hunter on portraits, and behind him was the old workshop he just cleaned up for use. Bloody Crow was sitting on the great tree in the garden, listening to the Hunter instructing the newly recuited students while devouring little Yharnam blood-lemon cakes.

"Now, I see some of you wondering: didn't the poster said we were recruiting Church Hunters? Why am I taking you to the Workshop, this shitty place full of out-dated garbage?" The Hunter's words send a wave of laughter in the crowd. "Listen up. The reason why I take you here is because this place is the origin of all the hunter schools. All the tools and technique here are the most basic and the most useful in real combat, and all the skills of the Healing Church came after the Workshop. In other words, you can't be on the second floor from the beginning, you'll have to be climbing from the first one! Now, I'm going to show you the earilest three right hand weapons and two firearms of the Workshop, and help you choose the pair that suits you the most considering your conditions."

"Can't we have them all?" asked an apprentice jokingly.

"Don't be hasty, you'll have to learn how to use every one of this sooner or later," said the Hunter as he grabbed the bottle on his belt and took a sip of the 'Golden Beach.' Some of the students stole longing glances at the light yellow cocktail with cold white steam swirling inside the glass.

The year was moving towards summer, and the sun gradullay leveled up from warming to burning. A few months ago the Hunter's skin was so pale it seemed translucent, now there was already a fine yellowish pink. Bloody Crow lick the blood-red cream on his fingers, finding out unexpectedly that his own bared chin and hands weren't burned by the sun. Perhaps because he was staying in the shade?

But Yharnam did has scrumptious lemon cakes. Blood-lemon cakes didn't really have blood in them; they were made from a special type of lemon with red pulp, and the flavor was heavier than usual lemons. According to the Hunter, the lemon also made a marvelous pair with champagne. Bloody Crow decided he would someday try the blood-orange cake, or the blood-pomelo ones. Central Yharnam had resumed her daily operation, and the road to the plantations in the outskirts were cleared, thus providing supplies again for the dessert shop on Ludwig Avenue, so that the Hunter could take Bloody Crow with him to have their fill of sugar at the end of a laborious day.

The apprentices finished choosing their weapons and started practicing the basic movements on broader grounds. The Hunter divided them into three groups according to the weapons they chose and instructed them individually. "As you can see, all of the weapons have apparent advantages and disadvantages. I would have you use proper improved weapons if I could, but better weapons are harder to forge, and Yharnam has not recovered to the point of being able to do mass production of high-level weapons. These three types are relatively easier and cheaper to make, and you'll probably be stuck with them for quite some time. My apologies for that, I hope you understand."

The Cainhurst storehouses were piled with Chikages, thought Bloody Crow, and they're more powerful than any other weapon. All of those were the remnants of previous Vilebloods, and most of them were left to rust beside the few ones given to newly joined Vileblood hunters. If this developing small-scale army could belong to Cainhurst...

"Now I will demonstrate some basic techniques in combat. Bloody Crow," shouted the Hunter. "Will you play the beast please?"

"Am I so savage?"

"You are so strong. Come, Bloody Crow, show us your insurmountable power of the hunter killer!"

The flattery was far too tasteless, but he didn't really have anything else to do. Bloody Crow chuckled and flashed to the Hunter's side with his Quickening. The students gasped at the strange ability, wondering what it exactly was. The Hunter explained, "That is Quickening, one of the skills of the Workshop, invented by old Gehrman's student. That is not something you learn within a snap of your finger; right now, just focus on performing your side steps better!"

Although Bloody Crow was the assistant, he didn't really hold back. Wound the Hunter he did not, but basically he beat up the Hunter's arses in front of all the students, which brought great shame upon him who was supposed to be the mentor. But he didn't complain to Bloody Crow, instead he call the students up to practice with them one by one after the public shaming, and defeat with ease those rookies who couldn't even hold the axe steadily or would often hurt themselves with the cane, to send the message of "I'm not weak, it's just the bastard is too strong." Even so, Bloody Crow could see that his power had impressed many of the students, which made a smile crept up the corners of his mouth.

Training new hunters wasn't an easy task. The Hunter had been dedicating his daytime in supervising the students' training and studying since they received their first group of recruits. Even if Henriett and Gascoigne and some other hunters could take some of his work on their shoulders, the Hunter still had no time to rest, because he had new nurses and doctors to train, and that work didn't only require more effort, but there was only Iosefka to share his burden. Besides, he had to organize the disobedient Yharnamites to put incense on rooftops where the street was cleared, so that the beast wouldn't dare to approach areas where there were human activities. The Hunter also had to bring the hunters to hunt in distant districts, in hopes of restoring all of Yharnam to order as soon as possible.

With all these heavy tasks, conflited in their natures, upon the same shoulders, the Hunter's schedule simply went mad. The teachings at day taxed his brain intensely and increased the need of sleep, but the hunts at night excited him, making it even hard to fall asleep even when he returned to his chamber, and more than often he needed alcohol to help him get a few moments of rest. Two hours in average every three days.

"I don't like you drinking this," Bloody Crow said one night, glancing despisingly at the glass of cocktail in the Hunter's hand, yellow and orange as the rays of morning sun. "It makes your blood spicy."

"Tequila Sunrise? It's got a strong fruity taste, I thought you like it."

"That pungency is so thick I could barely smell a faint trace of fruit." Unable to bear the pungent smell, Bloody Crow took the glass from his hand. "Forget about this, have a cup of the one you had last night."

"Alexander is too sweet, I don't want it two days in a roll!"

"It sweetens your blood. I like sweet blood."

The Hunter's face sombered, and he intentionally took a sip of the orange liquor in front of him. "Don't be too cocky, Bloody Crow. I will offer you my blood, but I'm under no obligation to make it tastier for you."

Bored, Bloody Crow settled himself into the Hunter's armchair, watching the Hunter getting rid of his coat and boots, and going to bed with the clothes he prepared to wear tomorrow instead of a nightgown. If he couldn't get tasty blood, then Bloody Crow didn't intend to compromise. Perhaps tonight he should perform his duty to the queen, hunting for some dregs; Yharnam was mostly settled, so he had to go further to find his prey.

"Going on a hunt?" Noticing him standing, the Hunter mumbled tiredly.

"I am a Vileblood, remember?"

"Mhmm. You don't need to come tomorrow," the Hunter turned in his bed. "I summoned some people to Yharnam. They won't like you, and you won't like them."

Bloody Crow paused in his preprarations. "Executioners?"

"Yeah."

"Many?"

"There'll be one more beside Alfred."

"Then there's nothing to fear," replied Bloody Crow with crossed arms. "Cainhurst would never have fallen if not for the number of the Executioners. They were just too many. In fact, if you say so, I'd like to meet those shameless bastards. Send my regards and so on."

"Of course you can win, but Yharnam doesn't need more messing up. I hope this type of conflict happens as few as possible."

"You have no right to order me around, little hunter. Don't forget that I don't need your blood, but you need me." Bloody Crow bent down before his face. "I'll appear on the stage at precisely the right time tomorrow."

When Bloody Crow returned from the hunt, the Hunter was gone from the Grand Cathedral. Following his scent, Bloody Crow found him in the Oedon Chapel. The Hunter was standing in a corner of the round platform, and the weapons in his hand was no other than the Reiterpallasch of Cainhurst. Probably forged by him with the skills he learned in the dream.

There was an old man dressed in red in the Chapel, staring helplessly at the mad Hunter. Bloody Crow urged him to leave the chapel with the gentlest tone, and approached the Hunter very slowly.

"Arianna, Arianna... poor Arianna... " the Hunter swayed as he muttered. "I wanted to save her... poor Arianna... "

Bloody Crow knew there would be a fight the moment he saw the weapon in the Hunter's hand, he just wanted to get the madness part over with quickly and go straight to the point. But this is the first time he heard the Hunter say somebody's name in his hysteria, and it fueled his curiosity. He asked whispering, probingly, "Who's Arianna?"

The Hunter inclined his head towards Bloody Crow's direction. "She wore a red dress... the same one I discovered in Cainhurst... "

The gown of a Cainhurst noble? Bloody Crow tensed. "How?"

"Her blood was sweet and nourishing... she was pale, blonde hair, very beautiful... "

"What happened to her?" Bloody Crow grabbed his shoulders and shook. "Tell me!"

The Hunter gazed at him, his eyes full of guilt and fear. "She was pregnant. She just... gave birth to a freak; she was scared, so I killed it... but she died too... "

Bloody Crow released the Hunter and stumbled backwards. He couldn't recall how many years he hadn't heard of any news from his kin; now he finally got something, but with this sorry end.

"I thought she's still alive in the waking world," the Hunter held his head miserably. "But no! So many of them are here, only her and the mad doctor! Dead! Arianna, Arianna, Arianna... !"

The Hunter fired a shot from the Reiterpallasch, right into Bloody Crow's shoulder. Only then was he startled out of his depression, and in his rage inflicted by the wound, he sliced the Reiterpallasch into two with a single swing of Chikage, and shot the Hunter in his chest with a bullet mixed with bone marrow ash.

The Hunter lay on the ground, panting as blood sprung out of his wound. Suppressing his fury, Bloody Crow cut his own wrist open and fed his blood into the Hunter's mouth.

When the Hunter woke, he found himself in his own chamber at the Grand Cathedral, wounds healed though his chest still ached. He supported himself up with quite some effort, and the first thing he saw when he lifted his head was Bloody Crow polishing his gun, seated casually on the window pane.

"You did this?" The Hunter asked, pointing at his own chest.

"Exactly."

"Is this necessary?"

"It's not my fault that humans are so fragile," ignoring the Hunter's furious stare, Bloody Crow leapt daintily down from the window. "Get changed and let's go. I shall meet those new Executioners you spoke of."

The people the Hunter summoned to Yharnam were the Tomb Prospectors. Bloody Crow walked with pride at the front of the receiving line, surrounded by the Hunter's rolling eyes and Alfred's panicky stare mixed with disdain. He distinguished the Executioner the Hunter spoke of in an instant: the hilarious Golden Ardeo, the clumsy wheel and the nudity made him as recognisable as possible among the decently dressed Tomb Prospectors. Bloody Crow didn't even wear his helmet, displaying his apparent Vileblood features beneath the sun in order to provoke. The Executioner turned towards him immediately, though Bloody Crow still didn't figure how they managed to see things. Perhaps such was the power of belief.

In fact, Bloody Crow didn't see the thing he needed to see. His gaze was drawn by the familiar and hateful helmet and wheel, that he only managed to recognize what the Executioner was holding in his left hand when he was already in position to fire.

"No, please, comrade, just a second... !"

Alfred tried to step in, but the Executioner apparently didn't hear him. The Hunter grabbed Alfred's collar and hulled him back, standing aside as Bloody Crow got blasted into a wall by the canon.

"He deserves it," the Hunter commented, unemotionally.

Alfred shifted his gaze between his friend and the coughing, fleeing Vileblood, unsure whether he should be gald or no.

The burden on Eileen's shoulders grew heavier with the Tomb Prospectors' return, since most hunters who had been to the Chalice Dungeons were mad to some extent. The scourge wasn't always the cause of their madness, so their symptoms were less feverish, enabling Eileen to spare their lives as the Hunter requested. At a certain point, a foreign youth appeared at her side, who seemed nothing more than her assistant, but everyone knew that he was the successor Eileen planned to name after her approaching retirement.

Queen Killer - the Executioner who blasted Bloody Crow into a wall - wasn't the craziest among the Tomb Prospectors, but certainly the most difficult to deal with. Firstly, convincing him to put on something took enough effort from the Hunter and Alfred; secondly, both of his deadly weapons made restraining him extremely hard every time. Fortunately, to revenge the shot, Bloody Crow was always glad to take part in these operations.

The Hunter's work grew less demanding with the Tomb Prospectors' assistance; he still left early and returned late, but at least he no longer needed to sleep once every three days. There were many old hunters among the Tomb Prospectors, providing him with great help on hunting, medical treatments and academics. The Hunter's leisure pleased Bloody Crow as well; they hadn't got the chance to have sex for quite some time.

The Hunter's body was no longer pale, but Bloody Crow found the wheat-colored skin exceptionally appealing on him. The trait usually wasn't aesthetically pleasing in a Vileblood's eyes, so Bloody Crow felt strange himself. When they were finished, he stretched in satisfaction in bed, appreciating the way beads of sweat rolled down the Hunter's spine, bony like a mountain range, as he mixed a drink for himself at the bar.

"How did you manage to make all of them obey you?"

The Hunter returned to bed with the glass. The cocktail was black, with a layer of snowy cream on top, and a crimson cherry settled on top. The Hunter smiled as he noticed Bloody Crow tempted by the color, raising the glass to his lips to offer him a sip.

"What's it called?" Bloody Crow asked, licking his lips. The sweetness literally swam in his mouth.

"Angel's Kiss," the Hunter appreciated his work. "How did I make them obey, you ask? Well firstly, they've all met me in the dream, it's just most of them don't remember. But the familiarity is enough to diminish their hostility towards me. Secondly, I convinced them to believe that I'm the hunter the Church sent into the dream to look for a cure, and then I showed them the knowledge and skills I learned in the dream."

"Mmmm... speaking of the Church, where's the vicar exactly? The woman called... "

"Amelia," the Hunter slowly shook his glass. "She turned into a beast, completely. I had to kill her."

Bloody Crow narrowed his eyes, realizing that the Hunter wasn't telling the truth. But he wasn't interested in the truth anyway. One thing though, he was.

"What about Arianna? Who was she?"

The Hunter tensed. "How do you learn that name?"

"You went to Oedon Chapel last night, to do your... routine insanity. You just kept talking about her." Bloody Crow leaned closer to the Hunter's glass, stealing the cherry with a quick bite. "Sounds like she was related to the Vilebloods."

The Hunter sat up, his face solemn with suppressed sadness, and told Bloody Crow her full story.

"Most possibly, she was a distant descendant of the Vilebloods. She had very few features of your kind, but her blood didn't lie."

"She was a prostitute, you say?"

"Yes. I'm sorry."

So even their distant descendant had came to this... wretchedness. Bloody Crow's rage lasted to the next day, and when he passed by the square with the statue of Logarius, seeing Alfred demonstrating church weapons to the students, with Queen Killer playing beast with his massive weapons, Bloody Crow's fury reached its peak. He drew Chikage and cursed Logarius' name, so blatantly that both Executioners forgot all their manners in front of the students and charged at him directly, weapons in hands. This time Bloody Crow was well-prepared, dealing effortlessly with two enemies, even claiming the upper hand with his advantage in speed. It wasn't until the Hunter arrived and gave him a precise and a little bit lucky shot, followed by a brutal visceral attack, that the combat was forced to end.

"He dared disrespect Master Logarius," Alfred's kind face contorted like a beast with rage. "Why did you stop me from killing him!"

"Because you have no right," the Hunter replied calmly. "Perhaps you consider the existence of Vilebloods blasphemus, but the blood drunk nobles weren't the only ones the Executioners executed; women and children as well, innocent women and children. They never impeded the Church's blood healing, but the Executioners killed them too. This man (the Hunter pointed at Bloody Crow) might have lost his parents, his wife and children because of the Executioners, you cannot expect him to not loathe you and your master."

"And you expect me to do nothing, after he said those words? Master Logarius... "

"Slaughtered the innocent! Yes, Alfred, they are innocent. Cease your fanatic way of thinking and do not ever fight Bloody Crow again. Yharnam has no need for any conflict besides hunting now."

The Hunter turned to Bloody Crow. "And you, Bloody Crow, will not provoke them ever again."

"These people watered Cainhurst's stones with Vileblood lives, and doomed our descendants to the depths of society." Bloody Crow stood trembling, panting as he covered the throbbing wound in his stomach. "Listen to the name this Executioner gives himself! Queen Killer... he might have killed my queen in some dream!"

"I did kill a queen," the Queen Killer said with his hoarse, unused voice. "But unfortunately, not yours."

"And, believe it or not, neither of these Executioners took part in the massacre of Cainhurst. Alfred was an apprentice, and Queen Killer has always been a Tomb Prospector." The Hunter told him. "You can hate them all you like, but this is not Cainhurst, and you must obey my rules. Do you want to be called the Queen's Mad Dog?"

Bloody Crow spat out the blood in his mouth. "I have tons of nastier names."

"But Annalise's reputation will be even worse. Listen, Bloody Crow, there might not be a more powerful person in this entire city, but if it's trouble you want, all hunters combined is more than enough to finish you off. Just like you said, the Executioners overwhelmed Cainhurst with their number."

This finally vanquished Bloody Crow's will to fight. He sighed impatiently and turned to leave. The Hunter dismissed the onlooking students, promising to teach them visceral attack tomorrow. As Bloody Crow walked towards the Grand Cathedral, a few apprentices suddenly caught him up.

"This... gentleman," the young men and women stared at him with bright eyes. "You said you're from Cainhurst, didn't you? Your weapons, they're so cool! And how did you make your gun shots so powerful?"

Their reaction piqued Bloody Crow's interest. "Such is the strength of Vilebloods, kids. Want to know more?"

"Of course! Can you teach us?"

"It's... not impossible. But first, you must swear fealty to... "

"Enough, you little bastards," the Hunter slapped a hand on Bloody Crow's shoulder. "Go to the workshop and get ready for today's quiz. You better hurry, cuz I'll be there in a minute."

The Hunter was as strict as he was hard-working, so the students simply nodded like chickens pecking at their food and ran to the Healing Church Workshop. Bloody Crow slapped away the Hunter's hand, "What do you want?"

"Last request, Bloody Crow," he whispered. "Do not attempt to increase your number in Yharnam."

"My business is none of your concern."

"It is my concern if it happens in my territory. I won't let anyone lay their hands on you, but most of the Yharnamites believe in the Healing Church; if you recruit for Cainhurst under my very eyes, I will lose my hard-won trust of the people."

"I don't care if you have their trust."

"When the co-operation is over, you can do whatever you like. I'll even make sure you won't be bothered. How's that?"

Bloody Crow looked into the Hunter's crimson eyes, and deep down he had that strange instinct again, sensing that the Hunter wasn't telling the whole truth, but he couldn't possibly predict the Hunter's motives. He wasn't a political figure in Cainhurst in the first place. But if the Hunter said so, he agreed; when the co-operation is over, he will convince those Yharnamites who worshipped his strength to join the Vilebloods, and bring some new members to Cainhurst, which hadn't been seen for a very long time indeed.

"Alright. Deal, then."


End file.
